To those who have been diligently searching the internet for more exposition on the new Lithops project: Finally! Here it is! I have some bad news for you! This review is being written by a dude who calls this stuff techno and wears flannel. Deepest apologies to serious fans: I am just going to look at this as music. As in, is it good? Or maybe bad? I mean for listening to as a human being. My exposure to Mouse on Mars, the previous vehicle for the man behind Lithops (Jan St. Werner), consists of the following anecdote: The cooler member of my high school band playing one song for me and asking "What do you think?" As far as I can remember, I opened another Milwaukee's Best, shrugged, and returned to my Dave Eggers novel.
First off: This album sounds like an hour of the weird parts off Midnite Vultures. Crap, that's a reference. Let's restate: this album sounds like an hour of a dude with a lot of talent and a little judgement learning how to use his expensive toys. Or this: it's the soundtrack to the least satisfying handjob ever received in a Finnish hotel bathroom. How about: the stuff roaring out of tiny round speakers during a very satisfying hour of World of Warcraft. Why not: what the internet listens to while it takes over the world. Clicks, people. Bloops. Bleeps. Many, many Bleeps.
So: Is it good? I don't know. What is its goal? I wasn't going to talk about circumstance or backstory, but I have no choice. So: do I rock this at a party? Depends who I'm partying with. If we are talking 6-foot Dutchwomen in plastic dresses, then yes. From the get-go. But if I'm with hairy real people? That's harder. Sub-question: are we super drunk? If we're sober, then probably not. I'd probably prefer to hear a guitar. If I'm maybe sort of a little drunk, then absolutely not. I'll be seen reaching for The Stones or Tupac. If we're drunk distinctly and with vigor, then shit yes. Because this is basically dance music. It's just that the computers have been told to stop imitating instruments. About two-thirds of the songs, particularly the first two tracks ("Roctrum" and "Rosa in a Lightspeed Vessel") have severely danceable parts. In context then: sure I'd throw it on.
In fairness, a shit-show isn't the only place to play this. I had a great time walking the streets with this on my tiny round headphones. Felt like I was going to hit the detonator at any minute. These innocents! Their families! BUT THEN, NO ONE IS INNOCENT IN A TIME OF HIGH-TECH WARFARE... so if you, like me, view your life as an on-going Matt Damon movie, this could really complement some of your adventures. If you just like listening to nice things while you stare at your ceiling, too bad: this album will bore the crap out of you.
In conclusion, I've learned a lot from this review. For one, I now know what happens when I spill tea into the keyboard of my laptop. Turns out I can't bring myself to hand-write a review of music that can performed without hands. Sub-lesson: Dell is fucking awesome as long as you pay them a couple hundred dollars for the idiot guarantee. Also, I've learned about the limitations of Just Listening to Music. There's no such thing, because, music exists in lives, not on some pure blank plane of radness. Lives don't have things in them - lives are the things they contain. So sometimes making sense of techno, or rock and roll, or hip-hop, or anything, is going to require more than sitting in my room, staring at the ceiling. It'll mean recalling the effect on my soul of a beat and a little weirdness when I'm loopy on jungle juice. Doesn't excuse an hour of spaceships at a poetry slam, but it helps abate my fury.
